Bioshorts
by Stuart James
Summary: Shorts of the Bioshock Universe(s?).
1. Chapter 1

"I can smell angels, daddy!" and the little girl runs through the doorway excitedly.

The huge beast lumbers on behind her, his footsteps thudding and clunking through the corridors. The girl holds her hands to her chest with a giggle in anticipation of a new angel to play with in this former foyer, then kneels to pierce the flesh with her bottle's needle. A clunking sound behind causes her to look to see that the door has shut, her daddy the other side.

"Well looky what we got here." a splicer with torn cheeks and half a jaw approaches from out of a dark corner.

"Come on, sweety. Let's have a taste." another dressed in twin set and pearls attempts to coax her. Her attire and her face disagree with each other, half of her skin burnt solid and waxy.

The girl finds herself surrounded by five of these horrors.

"Daddy!" she screams out but can only hear him pound his fist on the door, crying out desperate deep wails.

Four of the splicers are upon her, holding her down by a limb each and gurning, leering, while the fifth prepares to take back her angels.

"Mister Bubbles!" she tries again.

Daddy always comes. Daddy always saves her.

"Daddy!"

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." she says, re-gaining her bearings, "Go back to sleep, dear. I'm just going to get some water."

"Mmm." her lover rolls back over.

She gets out of bed and goes down to the kitchen then just stares out of the window a moment but the feeling won't leave her. Taking a glass from the draining board she opens the faucet. The falling water rings on the metal sink and the sound goes right through her, like those corridors in disrepair that were once her playground. She looks to the telephone and lets out a long sighing breathe before picking it up to dial.

"Hello? Sorry it's so late."

_"Never a problem. What's up?"_

"Oh. Nothing. I just wanted... Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

_"Are you alright?"_

"I am now. Thanks. And sorry. 'night, Jack."

_"Any time. 'night, honey."_


	2. Chapter 2

Brooke falls but manages to grab at the balcony's handrail. As she dangles a moment a young man barely old enough to grow his first whiskers stands in a sailor suit holding a book standing at the window looks on with a bemused expression. Brooke recognises him as her quarry, Elijah.

"Ah... hello!" Brooke says.

It seemed right in the moment. The boy screams in terror and Brooke continues her fall, landing with a relatively soft thud. Seemingly more angry than shocked now, he throws a book at her from the balcony, then descends the short stairs to lob further literature.

"Hey!" Brooke shouts with an outstretched hand, "Knock it off!"

The boy approaches low and menacing, picking up another tome for ammo.

"Stop it. Will you stop it?!" she shouts at him, then more calmly, "I'm not here to hurt you."

"Who are you?!" he says holding aloft a book of the principles of quantum mechanics.

"My name is DeWitt." she replies, now standing from her fall and places a calming hand on his shoulder, "A friend. I've come to get you out-"

"Get away!" the boy shouts, raising the book again.

She holds the boy at bay easily enough. As one of the only women involved with the Pinkertons, she knows how to handle herself. The boy loses heart in the struggle, knowing it is futile, then frowns a curious frown at her, holds out his hand, saying in wonder, "Are you real?"

"Real enough." she says with a wink.


	3. Chapter 3

The young ladies all wait in the large parlour. They can all still see it in each other's eyes, in their uneasy stances, in the long distant look that they do sometimes.

"Did you make it through college, Amy?" one asks of another.

"Nah." she replies nonchalantly.

"Oh?"

"Tuned in, dropped out." Amy gives a facetious peace-sign with her hand.

"Oh..."

"What?"

"I don't know. Just seems like a waste."

"Seems like a waste?!"

"What? A mind is-"

"Wow! I mean, wow! After all we've been through and you think that's a waste?! Little Miss White Picket Fence?!"

"What? I've always wanted my own family."

"I thought we were your family."

"Oh, you know what I mean. Children of my own, who I can give a proper childhood, show the good in the world, not like-"

"Don't." a seated and more fragile looking woman says.

"What? Don't say that we used be vampires?" the drop-out says, then with glee, "My daddy's smarter than Einstein, stronger than Hercules and lights a fire with a snap of his fingers!"

Her words silence the room and cause the seated woman to fix a manic stare at the floor.

"Amy!"

"What? Tell me that that doesn't still feel good."

"It's all gratification with you, isn't it?"

"Hey, after what happened at Rapture, I've learned to live in the now."

The door to the parlour opens and an elderly gentleman merely pops his head around with resigned, raised brows.

"Ladies. It's time."

The fragile lady stands to cling to the arm of the home-maker.

"Daddy?" she asks of the doctor to confirm what she doesn't want to be true.

"I'm afraid there's not long at all. You may wish to make any goodbyes now."


	4. Chapter 4

She places the last spoon in the appropriate position as dictated by decorum, then re-arranges all the crockery and cutlery on the parlour table again, ensuring it looks perfect on the checked tablecloth. She's not sure why she feels the need but it seems like an important visit, an honoured guest, even wearing the beige, skirted suit normally reserved for Sundays. The doorbell rings, and she has a short panic as she double checks the table and removes the pinny protecting her clothes then tweaks her hair as she passes in the mirror in the hall. Happy that as much can be done has been done, she continues to the door to answer it. A dark haired woman in jeans and white tee-shirt waits at the door.

"Hello. Eleanor, I presume? Did you find us okay?" the woman greets her.

"Yes. Thank you." and Eleanor holds out her hand, "Sally."

They shake and Sally beckons Eleanor in.

"Come in, come in, I've made scones and I've a kettle on the stove for tea. I hope that's okay."

"Of course."

Leading Eleanor to the parlour, Sally hears the kettle's whistle blow.

"Oh! Just a moment. Please, take a seat." she offers at the well presented table.

Eleanor seats herself, noting the symmetry of the table. Such precision tea reminds her of less enjoyable times with her mother, where she would be required to be quiet and still. No mean feat for any young child.

"Much call for high tea in Maine?" Eleanor asks Sally as she returns with a large teapot, complete with knitted cosy and places it on a place mat on the table.

"Oh. Well. I thought... I hope you don't think me presumptuous but I thought you might like tea. Being... well... English..."

Eleanor laughs.

"Sorry..." Sally says. She's not sure why she wants this to go so well but she feels she's offended now.

"No, no, no!" Eleanor sees her shrivel a little and re-assures her. "It's just been a long time since I was seen as 'English'. Or had tea for that matter."

"Oh I am sorry, Eleanor. I didn't mean to... I mean, I wanted this to-"

"Hey, hey. It's okay." Eleanor picks up the teapot. "Shall I be mother?"

Eleanor performs a satisfying high pour into the china cups sitting on matching saucers and Sally picks up the small milk jug, querying with raised brows if Eleanor would like some in her tea.

"Just a splinge." Eleanor responds.

Their drinks prepared, they sit a moment in silence with occasional time filling sips of tea. Eleanor notes a fragility to Sally, though with her past that would be understandable and Eleanor can fully empathise with that horror.

"Do you ever think about...?" Eleanor begins.

"Please, don't." Sally stops her as cordially as she can with a blank smile which fixes on her face.

"Oh... I..."

"Let me get the cream for the scones," Sally stands a little shakily, "Mister Evans from the dairy was kind enough to make me a special order of clotted cream."

"Wow. You've really gone all out, eh?"

Sally leaves Eleanor at the table who puzzles a moment. It comes naturally to her mother and she, talking about that place and the shared horrors. That Sally stopped any notion entering her head tells Eleanor that not all may have coped as well as she did; despite hating the idea, she has her mother to thank for that. Eleanor gets to the last dregs of her tea, hitting the bitter dust at the bottom. It's been a few minutes now, certainly longer than just grabbing a pot of cream. She goes to the parlour door and to the kitchen to find Sally at the kitchen sink, sobbing hard.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come." Eleanor says.

Sally turns her head quickly in surprise, then attempts to re-gain some composure, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

"No, I'm sorry." she says, "I wasn't sure what I expected. Not of you, but... it just reminded me of her."

"Of who?"

Sally just looks to the floor. No-one knows. The woman who saved her, who she just stood and watched die, so desensitised to the constant death around her. Jack might have saved her from Rapture but that woman saved her life.

"I don't know her name but she helped me... then she was gone."

"Hm. There were all kinds of characters at Rapture."

"I don't think she was from Rapture but she... she was... and Jack... ugh... sometimes I think I know then it's gone."

"Sally, I hope you don't mind me saying but if you ever want to talk about it with someone, I mean I know you can't just go telling anyone about it, it'd sound insane but if you do need to go over it with someone, or just chat, or have tea, I want to help."

"I remember you, you know."

"What?"

"From the orphanage."

"Really? Apart from the odd audio log, I don't re-call much at all about the orphanage beyond vague feelings."

"Sometimes I remember it quite fondly. Momma Tenenbaum was really good to us, you must remember that."

"Yea... vaguely..."

"And you were a right bossy boots, always trying to take charge of the Little Sisters!" Sally says more playfully now.

"Ha! If my old logs are anything to go by, I cannot argue with that. Anyway, where's this clotted cream I was promised? I do hope you've some nice jam to go with it."

"Alright!" Sally concedes as she goes to the fridge, "Strawberry okay, Bossy boots?"

"Is there any other kind?"

"I am glad you came though." Sally says with a moistened smile. "I've always tried not to think about it but just this brief chat about it makes it feel less heavy but... there's something you should know. Someone came to see me, a reporter I think."

"Oh?"

"He had... things... from there."

"From Rapture?"

"Yes. And a painting of her!"

"Hm. Did you say anything?"

"What? No! What could I say? I just panicked and slammed the door."

"Probably for the best."

"But what if they investigate, find out what we did?" Sally says with manic concern.

"What we did? Sally, we didn't do anything. Don't feel bad for what they made us do, we were only children. They brain-washed us into doing it."

"Hmm, but sometimes, I remember what Mister Bubbles did... and what I did... and how much I enjoyed it..."

"I know..."

"I've never felt more safe as I did then. Even when it was horrible." she says and looks away with frustrated shame.

"I know..." is all that Eleanor can concede. She knows these feelings all too well.

"Sorry, Eleanor. I just wanted a normal afternoon tea and chat but-"

"No," Eleanor interrupts her with a smile, "I should learn when to keep my big bossy mouth shut. I'm sorry I brought it up, I should have known it might be difficult."

"No. I have to face it all one day, and thank you, yes, I'd like it if you popped over when you can."

"Good! So let's get these scones polished off, eh? And I'd wager a fresh pot of tea is needed by now."

Eleanor pauses a moment, with a ponderous face.

"What is it?" Sally asks.

"Did we used to play tea parties?"

"Yes! All the time! It was everyone's favourite game in the orphanage!"

"I suppose I always wanted to be mother, did I?"

"Ha! Yes."

"Hm. Weird."


	5. Chapter 5

Henry returns back to his lair, another day's scavenging amongst the ruins and the damned. Shutting the door, he then puts in place the plank to give further defence and walks into the dark room, crumbled plaster pushed into one corner, in the other Martha kneels over her pistol, placed with reverence on a cushion brushed of debris, singing to it.

_Hush, little baby, don't say a word._  
_Moma's gonna buy you a mockingbird_  
_And if that mockingbird won't sing,_  
_Moma's gonna buy you a diamond ring._

He knows why she does it. Hearing him enter, she turns to look at him with her misshapen waxy face, her sadness ever present.

"Hey." he greets her.

"Hm."

"So yea! Good times! Two whole cans of beans, not even rusted on the outside or nothing!"

"Hm." she barely acknowledges.

They still see it in each other sometimes, the humanity that was lost but still hides and occasionally surfaces from their inner-most consciousness.

"Come on, Martha. We weren't to know."

"Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" she cries out manically.

"Amy was-"

"Amy, Amy, Amy, Amy, Amy! Where's Amy? Where's my baby?! I need Adam, Henry, please! I need more Adam! Please..." Martha pleads, finding too much of the humanity she thought lost.

"Um... but... I've only just been out. I was hoping I wouldn't have to fire my gun today."

"Fine! I'll do it myself!"

She picks up her gun, places it in her mouth and fires without hesitation, blood and brains splattering the wall and her body falls with a thud.

"Martha? Oh God, Martha, no!" Harry falls to his knees at her body. "It wasn't our fault, Martha! Why'd you have to go and do that? Oh... er... heh... looky here, I had some Adam here all along... hehe..."

He sheepishly pulls the needle from his pocket and pierces her flesh.

"There ya go, that'll fix ya right up! Come on, Martha, old girl, you can't leave me here all by myself."

After a few minutes of twisted hope, he lays beside her on the ground.

"Why'd ya have to go and do that? I miss her too, you know..."


End file.
